Lonely Loving
by passionwriter007
Summary: She had been raised feeling unloved. He didn't even believe in love. Follow this story of two people who finally figure out what it means to love.


PROLOUGE

The last day I ever saw my father was the first day of kindergarten.

I remember the warm morning, the Oreos my mom gave me for breakfast, because we never had anything else, the ceiling fan spinning and spinning in the air to accommodate the heat. My father was up watching T.V, listening to the news and cursing every so often in Spanish.

My mother had gotten me a new outfit for my first day. I was nervous; I'd had to shave all my long hair off because I got gum stuck in it, and now I was braving a short pixie-cut. I had stared at the mirror in the bathroom and grimaced at my chubby face.

As my father drove me to school, I remember asking, "Papa, do you think I'm pretty?"

He had stared at me in surprise, his usually cold brown eyes- dark like mine- soft. "You are the most beautiful in the world, _querida._" I remember how much that had made me smile. I had jumped out of the van, looking at my small elementary school full of children like me. Papa had gotten out of the van as well, walking me up the large playground. He shook hands with my teacher, said a couple of words to her, while I surveyed all the kids playing, frowning when I saw all of them were skinnier than I was. _A lot _skinnier.

"Isabella! It's a pleasure to meet you, are you excited for your first day?" My teacher had asked excitedly.

Now, my papa was the only one in my family who had mastered the art of speaking English fluently. He had tried to teach me as much as I could, but I realized that I would have to work on it more.

"Y-yes," I had whispered.

"Excellent! Come stand in line, the bell should ring soon." Her attention was soon diverted when she spotted other students.

My papa had knelt down in front of me, with an expression that I didn't understand. Why was he so sad?

"_Estas bien, Papa?" _I had asked.

"_Si, carina, solamente estoy muy feliz porque mi nina se va a la escuela." _He tickled me until I was giggling and laughing in his arms.

"Remember, Isabella, _necesitas ser fuerte para seguir adelante._"

I nodded. It was a saying he often spoke to with his friends. "_Si, Papa."_

He hugged me tightly, until I couldn't breathe. "Papa, I can't breathe!" I'd had gasped.

He had released me, with newfound tears in his eyes. "Te quiero, Isa-Linda."

I remember I'd rolled my eyes. "Te quiero Papa."

I'd gotten in line with everyone else, and I saw him walking away, his shoulders slumped.

We were ushered inside the building where my teacher gave us an assigned coat rack with our names on them. My name, in black marker, said ISABELLA with a smiling honey-bee in the background. I hung my back pack and started taking out all my school supplies that my mother had initialed with my letters I.S.

Suddenly a cute boy had his hook right next to mine and was chattering away with another girl. I decided to make myself noticed, and introduced myself to the girl. "Hello, my name is Isabella. What's yours?"

"My name is Sara, nice to meet you! I love your clothes!"

I'd smiled, relieved that she was so nice. "Thank you! You're really pretty. And so skinny!

"Oh please. You are skinny too!"

Suddenly the boy had whirled around and had stared at me with incredulity. "You're not skinny! You are a _fat _girl," he'd laughed wickedly.

_But daddy said I was pretty, _I'd thought sadly. My bottom lip had trembled, and my eyes were swimming with tears.

"All right kids! Everyone in the classroom!" The teacher, whose name took me forever to learn, called.

I remember how terrible my first day of kindergarten was. No one wanted to pair up with me –Sara already had friends who had wanted to play with her.

I had done all of the coloring by myself, every so often hearing that nasty boy whisper foul names to me.

I remember when school had ended I had snatched my belongings and fled the building like the boogeyman was on my heels. I remember being confused that my Papa wasn't there to pick me up; instead my aunt Marina had come to get me.

"Did you have a good first day of school _querida?"_

I had faked a smile and nodded.

She'd sniffled and had started the car.

When we arrived at my house, I remember seeing my mother in my brother Emmett's arms, sobbing and screaming like a wounded animal. My brother, roughly seven years older than me, was patting her back with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Mama, what's wrong?" I had asked.

When no one answered, I started to look for Papa.

"He's not here, Isa." Emmett had said coldly.

"What? Where is Papa?"

"He's gone."

I ignored what my brother had said and went in search of my Papa. There was no way my Papa would just leave us.

"He's _gone, _Isa."

"Where did he go? Is he coming back? Is he—"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE SHUT UP! HE LEFT US AND HE'S NEVER COMING BACK SO SHUT UP!" Emmett had screamed.

"Emmett, don't yell at her," my mother wailed.

My eyes watered again. Emmett had never yelled at me like that before. It was absolutely terrifying.

I had ran to my parent's room, opening my Papa's dresser only to find all of the drawers empty. I'd checked under the bed for his shoes, but all I saw were my mother's shoes. I opened their walk-in closet, only to find that his suits were missing. I looked out the window facing the drive way, now noticing the van was not in its usual spot.

Papa really left? Did he not love us anymore?

"_Te quiero, querida._

It was a lie.

Papa was gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Looking back on that day now, I guess he really thought I was ugly.


End file.
